


Company Picnic

by laulan



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:19:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10031279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laulan/pseuds/laulan
Summary: Neal enjoys a watermelon, and Peter enjoys Neal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Original notes:  
> Written for the most delightful [](http://radiophile.livejournal.com/profile)[radiophile](http://radiophile.livejournal.com/) on the occasion of her birthday because she is AWESOME IN ALLCAPS and I adore her so so so much. ♥♥♥ HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVELY LADY. I haven't written these guys in a while, so I'm a little rusty, but considering it's National Watermelon Day in addition to being [](http://radiophile.livejournal.com/profile)[radiophile](http://radiophile.livejournal.com/)'s birthday, and she happens to love watermelon, I figured I'd give it a go. Credit for the summary goes to her, too, because I suck at them. :D

Peter finds Neal sitting on a blanket underneath a tree, watching Diana and Jones try to play frisbee with a contented curl of smile on his face. He looks like a scene from a movie--the sky is blue, the grass is green, and the conman in the park is leaning up against a sycamore, his legs bent and his face tilted up to catch the sun. Peter stops and takes a minute to admire: the clean line of Neal's suit vest at his narrow waist, the way the thin fabric of his pants stretches over his thighs, his beautiful hands on his skinny knees and his toes in their polished shoes tapping out some nonsense rhythm on the grass. Something warm and loose settles in his chest, and he finds himself smiling, too. He doesn't bother to hide it as he strolls over and stops next to Neal.

Neal turns his head and squints up at him in question, his eyes paler and brighter than usual in the sunlight; Peter lets his mouth widen into a grin and waves the paper plate he's holding. "I brought you food," he says, stooping carefully to set the plate down before coaxing his body into a sitting position next to Neal.

"Watermelon!" Neal says delightedly. "You brought me watermelon?" He lays a hand over his heart and blinks prettily up at Peter, mischief tucked into the coquettish slant of his mouth. "My hero."

Peter snorts. "Because I brought you watermelon?" he says, watching Neal reach for a slice.

"Watermelon is no laughing matter, Peter," Neal informs him gravely, holding his piece in two hands and examining it with the utmost care, like he's looking for a single flaw in a perfect diamond. "It is the best fruit in the whole wide world, and must be treated with the respect it is due. I'd expect you to know that."

He give a sudden and decisive nod, like he's found what he's looking for; raises his eyebrows at Peter and takes an exaggerated bite out of the middle, juice dripping down his chin. It's almost a challenge--some part of Peter wants to smile again at the way Neal's always searching out new buttons to push, new things to poke at and test. Instead, he rolls his eyes and passes Neal a napkin, tamping down the faint heat that flashes through him at the sight of Neal's mouth curved around the green rind.

"You're like a five-year old," he gripes, to cover himself. "I can't take you anywhere."

Neal doesn't answer; just takes another drawn-out, slurping bite of the watermelon. Peter twists his mouth, mostly for show, and focuses on Diana and Jones, trying to follow the curve of the frisbee instead of the noises Neal's making. Neal knows exactly what he's doing to Peter; that doesn't mean he has to give in, Peter reminds himself. Besides, a company picnic is not a good place to get turned on. And a company picnic is _definitely_ not a good place to start thinking about all the other things Neal can do with that mouth of his. Yeah. Peter presses his lips together and thinks about the specs on their latest case instead, a forgery that's centered around antique books--

"Mmm," Neal moans loudly, interrupting Peter's train of thought. " _Man_ , this is good watermelon."

Peter's startled into a laugh. "You--" he starts, then gives up, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the white flash of Neal's teeth in the sunglight--and God help him, but he smiles too.

He lets himself watch Neal eat the last few bites watermelon even though he knows he shouldn't, heat pooling low in his stomach. Neal's lips are shiny and red by the time he's biting at the white parts, and the way he looks--God, the way he looks, Peter thinks, swallowing. Neal Caffrey is going to be the death of him, there's no doubt about that.

"You've got a seed," he says, a little blankly.

He reaches out to swipe his thumb over the corner of Neal's mouth before he can think better of it. Neal lets him. His skin is cool and faintly sticky, and Peter's heart flips right over at the softness in his eyes, underneath the heat. For a minute, he thinks of kissing Neal--just leaning over, free-fall, and pressing his tongue into Neal's mouth, making him come apart right here. Making him make that open little noise he always makes and making him curl his fingers into Peter's suit, dragging Peter closer till they're tangled tight together.

Then Neal catches Peter's wrist in his hand and brushes his lips over the pad of Peter's thumb, his eyes warm and devilish. Peter jumps, giving Neal a stern look and pushing down the lingering thought that he should go for it anyway, damn whoever's looking.

"Neal," he warns. "Not fair. Not here."

Neal heaves a sigh, and lets Peter's wrist go. He slumps dramatically up against the tree trunk. "Fine. Be that way. You never let me have any fun," he complains, licking his lips.

Peter can't help but huff a little laugh at that. "Maybe if your idea of 'fun' didn't involve us kissing in front of my boss," he mutters, lining the edge of his foot up with Neal's and pressing their shoes together. Neal sighs again, but he presses back, solid and sure. Peter smiles.

Later, Peter tells himself, back at the house, there'll be time to kiss that smile off Neal's face. For now, though, he'll have to be content just to be here--sun shining, Neal bright and free at his side, and the smell of watermelon whispering _summer_ to the cloudless sky.

_I can do that,_ he thinks, closing his eyes to the sun and letting himself be happy.


End file.
